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25 November 2016

My Favourites: Heroines – 1 (40s-70s)

I have long wanted to make a list of my favourite
actors and actresses, both in Hindi cinema and from Hollywood, but I put the
idea on the backburner. Until recently, when Ava, over at The Pink Beedecided to do a list of her friends’ favourite heroines with a decided twist –
she mentioned their career arc, some of their more important roles, and then
picked a song that she liked about each of them. Since I’ve only one working
brain cell at the best of times, and am now brain-dead following recent
tumultuous events here in my adopted land, I decided I needed some candyfloss
to clear my brain. So I decided – unashamedly – to poach Ava’s idea. (I did ask
– and get – permission, however.)

Here is the first list. My favourite heroines from
the 40s to the 70s. Be warned that it's a very subjective one. These are
actresses I like for various reasons; some are incredibly beautiful, some are
immensely talented, some are fortunate to be both. I like them all, and am
grateful to them for having filled many hundreds of leisure hours with their
charm, grace, beauty and craft.

So. To you, ladies: Salut! For brightening
up my dreary days, for drawing me deeper into the characters you portrayed, for
showing me the complexity of emotions with all their inherent contradictions,
for being the perfect escape valve and allowing me to lose myself for a few
hours at a time, I'm eternally grateful. You may have aged in real life, or are
no more, but you will live on in our consciousness, captured forever on
celluloid, reigniting the memory of watching you in dark theatres, dust motes
flying around in the light of the projectors – even while we watch old
favourites again and again on TVs or laptop screens in the comfort of our home.

To all you fine ladies, and to those who went
before you or who came after, thank you!

Having made her debut in a couple of
singing-dancing roles down South where she was based, Waheeda Rehman was
'discovered' by Guru Dutt and signed as the second lead/vamp in his protégé's
film. Simultaneously, he also signed her as the second lead in a film that he
was making: Pyaasa. Two diverse roles, and an instinctive mastery over
the craft of acting meant that this self-assured, self-respecting young woman
had her feet placed firmly on the staircase to success. Her incredible beauty,
her unmistakeable talent and her extraordinary dancing skills meant that she
was destined to carve out her own niche in the world of films. She was also one
of the few actresses who aged gracefully, and lived her life quietly and
happily away from the limelight.

Why I like Alka: It is very rarely that you find a female (or male)
character who is so self-aware, and so forthright about her likes and desires.
She is ready and able to shape her own destiny, and is very frank about not
being a doormat who will suffer every vicissitude of fate. Her uncompromising
morality is infused with a gentleness that makes it palatable (not
self-righteous).

The song: While there are many, many songs picturised on Waheeda that I
love, and indeed, I can think of no better song that brings her to mind than Chaudhvin
ka chand ho, it is sung to her; of the songs that she sings
on screen, this is the one that I like very much indeed: Raat
bhi hain kuch bheegi bheegi from Mujhe Jeene Do.

Nutan

Career: 1950-1989

Debut: Nagina (1951)

Forever enshrined as:

Memorable roles: Bandini, Seema,
Sujata, Sone ki Chidiyan

My favourite role: Sujata in
Sujata

Nutan was born to be an actress. A powerhouse
performer, she imbued even the most pedestrian of roles with a whiff of grace
and charm. Having made her debut on the silver screen as her mother's daughter
in Hamari Beti, the next year saw her become a full-fledged heroine –
both Nagina and Humlog released in 1951. She certainly
didn't set the screen on fire – the actress who Gautam Rajadhyaksha idolised as
'having no bad angles', was dismissed as a skinny ugly duckling. Her mother
promptly send her off to a finishing school in Switzerland for a year. When she
returned, it was once again to a handful of mediocre roles until Seema
came her way in 1955. That was her breakthrough movie, and Nutan sank her teeth
into the role of Gauri, a young woman sent to a delinquent home where, met with
unconditional love and acceptance, she is forced her to realise that an
uncomplicated friendship and a selfless love are hers for the taking – if she
will only accept them. Many of Nutan's songs are either sung to her (Jalte
hain jiske liye) or in the background (O re maajhi).

Why I like Sujata:She's unfailingly cheerful, but cannot hide
her hurt at being rejected time and again. She doesn't suffer in silence
either; she actually makes a push to find out why she's being treated
differently. Her affection for her younger sister, her love and respect for the
only parents she knows, her burgeoning love for a young man who is her sister's
husband-to-be (though the sister doesn't care), they were all brought to life
by an actress who lived that character on screen.

The song: Of the songs
that she has lip-synced on screen, the one that I really like is Kali ghata chhaaye from Sujata. A
young woman, brought up to be 'beti jaisi' ('just like a
daughter, only not quite), in the home of an upper-caste engineer, is faced
with little slights daily from the 'mother' she loves so dearly. Her mother is
not unkind, not deliberately, but her prejudices about caste don't allow her to
see Sujata as a living, breathing human being with desires and longing of her own.
Here, Sujata is coming alive to hitherto unknown desires.

She's forever fated to be the tragedy queen,
kohl-rimmed eyes brimming over with unshed tears; reel mimicked real, or vice
versa, and an image was built up, carefully burnished and eventually died for –
it was the ultimate sacrifice. Yet, she was one of the finest actresses of her
time; very subjectively indeed, the finest actress of her time, her
range transcending white saris, bharatiya nari roles, and glycerine. She
was one of the few actresses of the time whose films were powered by her
screen presence. She had very few roles with the ruling troika – Raj Kapoor,
Dilip Kumar and Dev Anand, preferring to star opposite Ashok Kumar, Pradeep
Kumar and Bharat Bhushan. She had impeccable comic timing (witness her in Azaad, Kohinoor and Miss Mary,for instance) and was
remarkable as a dramatic actress, subtly underplaying her role, modulating her
lovely voice so it expressed so much with seemingly little effort. (She made
history in 1963 by winning all the Filmfare nominations for 1962 Best Actress,
winning for Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam. She was essentially, throughout her
career, competing against herself.)

Why I love Chhoti Bahu: She's a complex character; traditional to the
core, losing herself within the four walls of her marital home, yet wanting
more, wanting to be her husband's lover as well as his wife, wanting his
presence in her life, and willing to fight for his company, to claw her desired
future out of her bleak present. Even if it means destroying herself.

The song: While she
immortalised Chhoti Bahu and Sahibjaanon screen, giving voice to their
loneliness and despair, one of my favourite songs picturised on her has to be Ajeeb
dastan hai yehfrom Dil Apna aur Preet Parayi.
From a film that was unexpectedly not weepy given the theme of self-sacrifice,
this song is a perennial favourite. I love everything about it – the lyrics,
the music, the rendition and the picturisation. Having lost the man she loved,
and who loved her, Karuna is forced to continue to work with him as if nothing
had occurred between them. She's stoic, her expression and voice only giving
her away to her best friend, as she wishes her beloved a long and happy life –
with someone else.

Long before Madhuri Dixit enchanted viewers with
her million-dollar smile, Madhubala lit up the screen with her effervescent
charm and that thousand-watt smile. Pitted against a veritable constellation of
worthy contemporaries, Madhubala not only carved out a niche for herself but
consolidated her position as one of the leading lights of the silver screen.
Her undeniable beauty perhaps blinded people to the talent that lay beneath,
but she had an extraordinary comic timing, and even when she was not laughing
or smiling, she looked like the laughter was but a smile's breadth away from
spilling over. She had some path-breaking films, and some spectacularly
successful ones, but could never capitalise on either, partly due to her own
ill health, and partly due to the stranglehold her father had on her career
decisions.

Why I love Asha: Asha is intelligent and resourceful. Like many Nav
Ketan heroines, she is more than an appendage to highlight her hero's
manliness. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it. She's a
working woman, and when she's asked to hide the truth, she has the courage to
do the right thing, even if it means she's in danger. It's always refreshing to
see a heroine who, when she thinks her lover has been unfaithful, actually asks
him about it and believes him when he explains.

The song: Her role in Mughal-e-Azam
was certainly the high point of a very successful career, and there's one song
from it that never fails to move me:
Humein kaash tumse muhobbat na hoti... Given that Dilip Kumar
and she shot the move without speaking to each other, the song is especially
poignant.

There's something about Nargis that appeals to me.
I don't usually mention her name when I'm talking about my 'favourite
actresses', restricting myself often to Meena Kumari, Nutan and Waheeda Rehman,
but I have equally often been surprised (pleasantly) by how enthralled I am
watching Nargis on screen. She has a gamin charm that transcends the fourth
wall, making you believe she's speaking to you, and is so natural that the
encomiums bestowed upon her seem to fall short of her undoubtable talent. From
all her roles, and there have been many that have appealed to me – the
staunchly principled Vidya of Shree 420, the conflicted Nimmifrom Aag,
the forthright Rita from Awara, Nina, the innocent victim in Andaz, Varuna
and her dual-personality in Raat aur Din, the twin sisters of Anhonee...
A fine dramatic actress, she showed off her talent for comedy in Chori
Chori, where she played Kammo, a runaway heiress who discovers a little too
late that she's not actually in love with the man she had run away to marry.
Ironically, this would be the last film she would do with the man she loved,
lending an unintended irony to Jo din ke ujaale mein na mila dil doondhe
aise sapnon ko, Iss raat ki jagmag mein doobi main doondh rahi hoon apne ko... and
Chaand ki behki nazar keh rahi hai pyaar kar zindagi hai ik safar kaun jaane
kal kidhar....

Why I like Rita: She's truly a modern woman – educated and working
(she's a lawyer). In love with a man from the wrong side of the tracks (a fact
she only learns later), she is willing to stand up to her foster father for his
sake, even as she offers her beloved a chance at redemption. Later, faced with
the fact that he might go to prison, she pits herself against a far-more
accomplished adversary – and wins.

The song: But the song
that will forever remind me of her, of an untrammelled itch to be free of
life's trappings, of luxuriating in that freedom once she attained it is Panchhi
banoon udti
phiroonfrom Chori Chori. I think it comes closest to who
she really was – a woman who yearned to be totally, completely free.

Vyjayanthimala was barely 18 when she signed her
first Hindi film, a remake of her debut film, Vaazhkai.Nagin (1954)
was her breakthrough film: people mention watching the film just for her
dances. Soon, her impeccable diction, her dedication and hard work, coupled
with her fabulous dancing skills saw her catapult to the top of the league. It
was Devdas (1955) that saw her being recognised as a serious actress;
she narrates how Bimal Roy was almost dissuaded from signing her, but she was
thrilled to be offered a role that would also channel her acting ability. Her
instinct was right; the role of Chandramukhi gave her her first Filmfare award,
one that she scorned because it was for 'Best Supporting Actress'. While the
next couple of years consolidated her position at the box-office, it was 1958
that gave her Sadhna and Madhumati – two of her best known
critically acclaimed and commercially successful roles. Ganga Jumna would
prove the apex of a long and successful career, but the failure of Amrapali,
a film into which she put her heart and soul, caused her to lose interest in
her career.

Why I like Janaki: I have always
liked Vyjayanthimala,but it was while watching her play Janaki in New
Delhi, a not-as-well-known film opposite Kishore Kumar that I realised how
subtly she underplayed her character, and how appealing she made her Janaki –
she's a very self-assured young woman with the courage of her convictions, and
the willingness to fight for her principles. She's a sensible woman, who not
only listens to her confused lover, but is willing to accept why he did what he
did.

The song: Of course, the
song that comes to mind when I think of her is from another film altogether: Chhad
gaya paapi bichhuafrom Madhumati, where she dances up a
storm, enacting the story of a woman stung by a scorpion. She plays the
eponymous character as well as her doppelganger, Radha, and her reincarnation,
Madhu. As the hill maiden who is molested and killed and whose soul thirsts for
revenge, Vyjayanthimala made use of both her excellent dancing skills and her
acting ability.

After making a blink-and-you-miss-it appearance as
a back-up dancer in Mud mudke na dekh (Shree 420), Sadhana
enrolled in Filmalaya's acting school from where she was launched alongside
Shashadhar Mukherji's son, Joy. Alongside, she was also working in Parakh,
where she played a simple village girl. It was interesting to see the contrast.
The audiences loved her – her gamin charm, her slim beauty and her voice
modulation all made her the darling of the masses, and lyricists wrote odes to
her beauty. An underrated actress, Sadhana was a natural in front of the
camera. With an innate sense of style, she could as easily slip into character
as the glamorous Meena as she could into the traditional Husna or the simple
Rani/Renu/Kavita/Seema from various films.

Why I like Kavita: I have liked
Sadhana in almost all the films of hers that I have watched, but Kavita remains
with me. She's a very strong character, a young girl whose one misstep leads to
a fellow student being unjustly suspended from college. Sadhana does a good job
of bringing out Kavita's guilt, her nascent attraction towards the young man who
now hates her, her initial reluctance to write to him but her happiness at
receiving his reply, her genuine affection and love for him, and her distress
at having to deal with the fact that he thinks she is another woman
altogether.

The song: There have been
many songs picturised on Sadhana, but the one that is a perennial favourite is O
sajna barkha bahaar aayifrom Parakh.
The cheery pitter-patter of the rain, the quiet enchantment of love – the
music, the lyrics, the singing, the picturisation where a very young and very
pretty Sadhana, in love with the village school master, is enjoying the rains,
its music echoing the beats of her heart – it never ceases to make me smile.

Sharmila Tagore was probably the first of
'crossover' actresses who straddled the divide between mainstream glamorous
roles and serious 'art' cinema. She was, after all, a Satyajit Ray discovery,
having acted in two of the Master's films before making her debut in a fluffy good-looking
movie with a handful of gorgeous songs, a handsome hero and nothing much to
do. She was also extremely unconventional, doing things a 'heroine' would not
dream of doing: for one, she was an extremely intelligent, articulate woman and
had very strong opinions on what she wanted to do. From nearly running away
after Kashmir ki Kali to hanging on to her bouffant in the face of
Hrishikesh Mukherjee's disapproval (a decision she says she regrets) to
repackaging herself into a glamourous avatar in An Evening in Paris and
appearing in a bikini on the cover of Filmfare, to leaving at the
heights of her career to marry Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi, only to return to flash
her dimples for Aradhana, then leaving again to have her son, only to
come right back and show off both her tiny waist and her histrionic abilities
in a variety of roles, Sharmila rewrote the rules of Hindi filmdom.

Why I like Sulekha: She was an
immensely relatable character. A young woman who hero-worships her
brother-in-law to an extent that her newly-wedded husband begins to feel a bit
insecure. So he sets out to fool the 'jijjaji', and Sulekha agrees to
help though she is sure of her jijaji's prescipience. But she also
cannot help feeling rather happy that her husband is getting the better of the
whole escapade, and she takes an unholy pleasure in helping him make a fool of
her brother-in-law. It was Sharmila's first full-length comedy and she seemed
to be having fun.

The song: Like Sadhana
before her, Sharmila was fortunate to work in films which had wonderful songs.
From the many songs that I love, the one song that immediately comes to mind
when I think of Sharmila is Raina
beeti jaaye from Amar Prem.

Mumtaz

Career: 1963-1977

Debut: Faulad (1963)

Memorable roles: Khilona, Aap ki
Kasam, Roti, Tere Mere Sapne

My favourite role: Nisha in Tere
Mere Sapne

From a child actor to playing side roles to playing
heroine in B-grade films before moving to second leads/vamps in A-list films,
Mumtaz had a long, hard journey before she achieved success. While she always
credited Dara Singh for making her a heroine (the duo acted in a number of
films together), it was Raj Khosla who gave her her big break in Do Raaste, as
a regulation 'heroine'opposite Rajesh Khanna. It was a short
role but she had four songs picturised on her. Soon, she would be catapulted to
being Sharmila Tagore's competition, given that both of them starred in a
number of films opposite the superstar. Mumtaz was not conventionally
beautiful, but she had oomph. Funnily enough for a woman who looked like a
little girl for most of her early career, with her snub nose and bright eyes,
Mumtaz transitioned successfully into being the glamour puss, her joie de vivre
and a smile that lit up her eyes making her absolutely sparkle on screen. Then,
she proceeded, through a series of movies, to show the industry that she also
had talent. Films like Khilona,Tere Mere Sapne, and Aap ki
Kasam were the highpoints of a career cut short by her marriage.

Why I like Nisha: She is
principled and compassionate. She's the voice of his conscience, and is strong
enough to leave him when his principles are compromised. It was a bravura
performance.

The Song: While there's one
song from Aap ki Kasam that I absolutely adore, it is this
song that I most remember Mumtaz by, from long before she became a heroine in
her own right – Ye hain reshmi zulfein from Mere Sanam. She
married innocence with sensuousness as she played her lover's game for him,
setting out to seduce the hero so her paramour can take incriminating pictures
of them.

Initially rejected for being 'too thin', Hema
Malini got her first break as a heroine opposite Raj Kapoor. This was the
beginning of the 'Dream Girl' tag; even though she was never taken seriously as
a credible 'actress', Hema would go on to rule the roost for the next couple of
decades, playing the romantic lead in more than a hundred films. Along the way,
she had her share of good roles - Seeta aur Geeta, Sholay, Lal Patthar,
Razia Sultana, Andaz, Rihaaee, Khushboo, Kinara, Andaz, Abhinetri, Ek Chhaddar
Maili Si, etc. Like Sharmila before her, Hema lived life by her rules,
marrying an already-married Dharmendra at the height of her career. However,
she lived her life with dignity, and returned to the arc lights as she
continued to pile up hit after hit, and proving to be a box-office force to be
reckoned with. Like with Sadhana and Sharmila Tagore, Hema is a joy to watch on
screen, filling it with a charisma that is incredibly attractive.

Why I like Geeta: She's spunky and
bold and lives life on her terms. She has no issues telling Raka off when he
trails after her like a lovesick puppy, and is more than capable of taking care
of herself. She is also loving and compassionate, and despite learning that her
'mother' is not her birth mother after all, but has abducted her, separating
her from her twin sister, there's a strong sense of affection and loyalty that
keeps her from rejecting her foster mother. She's an incredible character, and
Hema lived the role.

The song: Ae
dil-e-nadaan from Razia Sultan. Hema looked beautiful
(when did she not?) and fit the role to a T (the same could not be said for
Dharmendra's Yaqub), and the music by Khayyam was a treat. This song, with its
silences, echoes the longing of a woman who would like to forget, at least for
some time, that she is queen.

She came in like a breath of fresh air. A diminutive
bundle of talent (she's a gold medallist from FTII), Jaya Bhaduri has been
uncompromising in her choice of roles, and in conducting her life and career.
In a short first phase of her career, she endeared herself to audiences with
her unaffected performances, her full-throated laughter, and an innate ability
to become her character. Frank and outspoken, Jaya achieved a stature as an
actress par excellence before giving it all up to take care of her family,
citing her changing priorities and a lack of interesting roles as the reason
behind her decision. She has since returned to acting, choosing to work in a
few movies, some of which (Love Song, Hazaar Chaurasi ki Maa, Meherjaan)
have given her interesting characters to play on screen.

Why I love Anamika: She's an
interesting multi-dimensional character, so full of mystery and intrigue,
innocence and guile. There's a roguish delight in Jaya's twinkling eyes and
million-watt smile, as she plays damsel in distress and flirtatious wife; she
is both a young woman who grasps at what life offers her, and one who offers
her truth without a word of explanation.

The song: The first song
that comes to mind when I think of Jaya Bhaduri is the irritating Maina kaha
phoolon se, butthere's this song which I think is so reflective of
Jaya's personal philosophy; at least, she lives her life that way.The
song isRaaton ke saaye ghane
from Annadata.
Bearing life's travails on her frail shoulders, Aarti is relatively
cheerful during the day. At some point, however, she feels the burden weigh
heavily upon her. Yet, even in that moment of despair, there is hope, there is
strength, there is confidence.

'To know her is to be seduced by life.' That's some
encomium, and it came from none other than Shyam Benegal. Rekha has a
Garbo-esque mystique about her, something that she has carefully cultivated.
She is mysterious, enigmatic, charismatic. She's also child-like, curious,
imaginative and optimistic. Above all, she's truly one of the last great stars.
Having begun life as a child actor to stoke the home fires, young Bhanurekha
Ganesan made her debut in Hindi at the tender age of 14 in a film called
Anjana Safar (1969) [it ran into problems with the censor board, and was
released a decade later]; her first released film, however, was Sawan Bhadon
opposite Navin Nischol. Criticised for her weight, her complexion, her dress
sense, the young lass took it to heart and underwent a metamorphosis; it was
the classic ugly duckling turning into a swan story. En route, she also learnt
discipline and professionalism, and began to exhibit a serious talent
underneath the war paint. (It's ironical that a lifelong affair with the mirror
also coincided with some of her best work as an actress.) A film with
Hrishikesh Mukherjee (Khubsoorat) established her as an actress with a
flair for comedy. Films like Ghar and Ijaazat consolidated her
acting chops. But it is as the doomed-in-love-courtesan that Rekha shaped her
image; a slew of films, some downright weird, some crazily successful
mainstream cinema, some 'art house' cinema, all furthered the image of doomed
love; once again, Rekha cleverly stoked the rumours, with cryptic utterances
and oblique references.

Why I like Sudha: She's grounded,
mature, independent, and very strong. She loves her husband, and even though
she's possessive about him, it's only when he ignores a stated wish that she
takes a decision with serious ramifications. She was an unusual character, a
complex combination of traditional and modern, and Rekha played her with a
vulnerability that made her easy to relate to. She is a working woman, stays
alone, and feels herself responsible for her mother's happiness. It was a
stunning portrayal, and one that is very close to my heart.

The song: What can I say?
So many beautiful numbers picturised on her, beginning with the iconicSalaam-e-ishq,
yet the one that I cherish the most is Ye
kya jagah hai doston. In this tragic tale of a young girl
abducted and forced to become a courtesan,Rekha lived the eponymous
role, learning Urdu, modulating her lovely voice and allowing her eyes to do
the talking for her. The disillusionment is never more apparent than in this
song, in the town of her birth; outside, awaiting her is a surprise reunion,
and another separation. Lovely!

So, these dozen heroines are my picks. Who
are your favourites? And what roles do you remember them for? What songs
picturised on them do you like? Please add them to the comments.

*For purposes of this post, the
date of debut refers to their debut in Hindi films, and in full-fledged heroine
roles.

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